Now, Earth
“I’m taking the shot,” Tessa said.
“No, wait. They’re still too far for me to zap their brains,” Veronica said.
“Not yet,” Remy said.
“But dad,” Tessa whined, “they’re bunched up right now. If I wait too long they’ll spread out.”
Remy had mixed feelings. Here he was helping his daughters become better killers. He had placed himself in a moral quandary. Was he doing the right thing? The fishmen were undoubtedly thinking and feeling beings. In his mind they were essentially equal to human beings. On the other hand they were carrying out a war on his community. They and the cult that they controlled were doing… something… with the people of San Francisco, which they clearly meant to duplicate here. Not to mention that they wanted him and his daughters for something. He wasn’t willing to give them the benefit of the doubt on that account. He could only imagine the terrible things falling into their clutches entailed.
At the end of the day, he’d drench his hands in fishmen and cultist blood if it saved his family from that.
“Wait,” Remy directed at Tessa. “Your sister needs the practice and she needs to tag them as well so that she can also get points.” The words that came out of his mouth. He didn’t like that the killing of other beings, even if they were enemies, had been reduced to game-like mechanics.
“Fine, fine,” Tessa rolled her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Dad? Should I whammy them now?” Veronica said.
Remy stifled a sigh. “Keep your eyes on the rocks we’ve laid out. Remember, once they cross over into the target zone you can hit them.” He turned his head to his older daughter. “Then you can hit them.”
The fishmen continued to slink out of the river and up the bank. They started to spread out in a loose formation as they headed across the grassy fields toward the city.
The recently discovered magical alarm spell was a godsend. Now that they had forewarning that fishmen were coming up the river they were able to mount a more proactive defense. The previous months had seen them cede a lot of territory near the water ways. Relying on visuals meant that by the time they knew that a raid was happening the fishmen had already reached the city before a response could be sent. The fact that the fishmen were superior to most of the defenders aside from Remy, Nila, his daughters and a couple of others meant that the watch and the rest of the community’s population had suffered losses. The lucky simply died. The rest were taken to whatever horrid and unknown fate awaited them down the river, in the bay area.
“Now?” Tessa huffed. “I’m getting tired holding this field.” Her face was scrunched as she held her arms at around shoulder-width apart in from of her. Most of the space framed by her arms and chest was filled with metal shards of various shapes and sizes.
“You know what. I’m not going to say anything. You guys need to learn when the right moment is,” Remy said.
It was a teaching moment. He told himself. He had to prepare them for the possibility that he wouldn’t be around forever. It was a different world now. It was unfortunate, but his daughters were faced with different challenges. No longer was it about getting good grades to get into a good school, which lead to a good job. It was now about strengthening their superpowers, gaining skill in their use and gaining Universal Points to face, what appeared to be, escalating challenges brought about by the spires’ presence.
“Ugh! Fine,” Tessa grunted. “Alright, Vee. I’m waiting on you. I’ll go after you go.”
“Almost there,” Veronica said softly.
Remy was a little disturbed by the eager gleam in both of his daughters’ eyes. His wife was right. They were getting a little too eager to commit violence. A part of him found that a good thing. He felt shame at that. He really needed to talk to someone else outside of his immediate circle. It’d been awhile since he had the opportunity to talk to Eron, Rayna or his parents. They had re-established cell phone communications, except for some reason they had yet to figure out, it didn’t stay up. It stopped working in what appeared to be a random fashion. It might work for weeks in a row and just as suddenly stop working for three months.
The spires’ messaging system was more reliable, but it was more like sending emails, even if you could do video recordings. It was also ridiculously expensive.
Cal would’ve been good to ask for insight. He could be pretty wise about things when it was about the really serious stuff. Unfortunately spire messages only went one way at the moment. Cal was able to send them from the so-called Threnosh world, but they couldn’t send any up to him.
“Well, maybe not Eron,” Remy muttered. His younger brother had a darker take on the new world.
Eron had hinted at some of what he had seen and experienced out in the spaces between decently controlled towns and cities. Whatever those had been, they had made him more cynical, turned him into a pessimist. Someone quicker to decide to kill or destroy something if it was a potential threat.
Remy didn’t want that for his daughters.
“Dad, shush. You’re distracting me,” Tessa said.
“Don’t shu—”
“Justice!” Veronica bellowed as she leapt to her feet and thrust twtwo-fisted finger guns at the fishmen as they crossed into the area framed by carefully placed rocks, several hundred yards away.
The electromagnetic fields she generated scrambled fishmen brains. At the extreme edge of Veronica’s effective range the group of fishmen only stumbled in confusion for a brief moment. The lose of control from the signals in their brains to the rest of their bodies had only lasted a split-second, but it was enough for Tessa.
The elder daughter shot the mass of shrapnel in her grasp at ridiculous speed. There was a loud boom. The windows of the building they stood on shattered.
The fishmen didn’t have time to react. They were shredded.
Tessa grabbed another heaping armful of metal from the piles they had prepared beforehand and sent it flying just as fast as the first.
The fishmen scattered, but it was too late for them.
Veronica scrambled their ability to escape back into the river or attempt to take cover, while Tessa kept up the barrage. They were done in less than a minute.
The field was a torn-up mix of grass, dirt, metal and fishmen bodies in varying degrees of destruction. It reminded Remy of war movies. Specifically the aftermath of an artillery barrage scene. He felt a little ill.
“Good job, girls.” Remy tried to inject enthusiasm in his praise, despite how he felt sadness more than anything else. “Veronica, next time don’t shout out right before you attack,” he sighed. “Stay here, you’re on overwatch while I take care of the rest.” His daughters didn’t argue as Remy jumped down from the rooftop and sprinted across the open space to take care of any surviving fishmen. They had learned that it wasn’t a good idea to take prisoners.
His daughters smiled and looked generally pleased with themselves. Remy just couldn’t muster the same feelings. He would’ve much rather they be celebrating a goal or an A on a test.
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“Something to drink? Beer? Cider? Something harder? Small mercies that stores somehow keep replenishing their stocks, right? I understand alcohol isn’t an impairment for you.”
Remy merely looked at the interim governor. Or was the interim tag gone? He should’ve probably known the answer.
Alejandro Richards, though he insisted on Alex, had been some kind of low level staffer for a state assembly person when the spires appeared. Remy didn’t know the whole story, but the twenty-something somehow took the reins of leadership as the interim government was formed and clawed back control from the monsters. Almost nine years into the post-apocalyptic era the interim tags were gone and they were doing pretty well, all things considered.
The man was slick. The epitome of the politician. Remy should’ve hated him, but for some reason he found himself liking the man. He had to keep reminding himself to be wary and to really think about what he was going to say before responding to anything.
Remy counted five seconds before he replied. “No thanks, I’m good.”
The smile on the governor’s face didn’t waver one bit.
“Sure. Open offer, you’re welcome to take it up in the future. We’re happy to recognize all that you’ve done for the people during these trying times.” A somber look crossed Governor Richard’s face. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a decade since our world, our country, our great state was pushed to brink of destruction. Yet, we’re still here. All thanks to people like you. Brave, selfless people willing to step up with the gifts we’ve been given.”
Remy didn’t know were the governor was going with this. He mentally counted a few seconds.
“So, why did you want to meet with me? I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in actively fighting the fish cult unless they attacked on your side of the river.”
“That offer is still on the table.”
Remy knew what the governor was referring to. The California State Government was willing to perform a joint offensive operation into the Bay Area with the aim of recovering the women and girls that the fishmen had taken a year ago. With the proviso that Remy was a part of it.
Remy shook his head. “We’ve agreed that the risk was, is, too great.”
“And we respect that, which is why we aren’t actively pushing for it.”
Remy nodded.
“Although, I had hoped that maybe if I asked you directly, one leader to another, if you’d reconsider. I truly am worried about what sort of treatment our people are suffering under these cultists and fish people. Sacrifice? Biological alteration?” Governor Richards shook his head ruefully. “I can’t believe that I’m saying these things with a straight face. Tell me, how do you deal with it? I mean. I want to laugh, because I sound so ridiculous, but then I remember that my fellow Californians are out there being hurt, killed or worse due to all of this insanity.” He gave Remy a sad smile.
Remy felt the corners of his mouth start to tug upwards in a mirror of the governor. He caught himself just in time. “I try to accept that this is reality now,” Remy said flatly. “Control what I can and keep an open mind. I tell myself that I can’t afford to discount anything out of hand, no matter how impossible or stupid it seems. Because if I do that, dismiss potential threats, then people will get hurt or worse.” He blinked. That had been more than he had meant to reveal.
The governor gave him a sympathetic smile.
“No pressure though. I’m just happy that you’re the kind of man you are. All that power in a worse man…”
Remy didn’t know what to say to that so he counted numbers in his head.
Governor Richards sighed and ran a hand through his perfect hair. “So, I know you’re busy and I’m going to be honest with you. I was hesitant to bring you in, but I got overruled by my advisers. In short, we’re all Californians here and we need to stick together. I know that your community hasn’t been quite on board with joining up with us. I’m not going to rehash all that. Our main concern now lays with our captive people, as it should be. Plus, we’re not dumb. If Davis loses to the fish people, then we’re likely next.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll lay it out plainly. We’re willing to lend our troops to the defense of your city—”
“In exchange for unification under your authority?”
Governor Richard’s looked pained. “No, no. We’d never do something like that. I’m really trying my best to do things differently from how it was done before. You’re people don’t want to be a part of what we’ve rebuilt and that’s fine, so long as we have an amicable relationship, I’m okay with that. Some of my advisers might disagree,” he leaned forward conspiratorially, “mostly the boomers, old military guys and ex-CEO’s. They want to go back to the old, golden days.” He shook his head.
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“What do you want then?”
“It’s all about the people, man.” Governor Richards grinned. “We want a rescue operation. With you in charge, of course. We’ll provide the bulk of the troops and we’ll switch over more to help defend your city in your absence. Success or failure the mutual defense pact stays in place. We’ll help you fight to the best of our ability.” He spread his arms out wide. “Two is stronger than one.” He clasped his hand together.
It was lame, but Remy found that he was leaning forward in his chair. Drawn in against his own internal thought process. He waited and counted. He hit a hundred before he felt that he could answer with the words that he knew were his own.
“I’ll have to consider it and talk to my people first. It’s not just up to me.” Remy stood up abruptly and stuck his hand out. “Thanks for your time.”
The governor was taken aback for a second, but he recovered smoothly and shook Remy’s hand with a firm grip and an easy smile. “No problem. Take all the time you need.”
When the door to his office closed and he was alone the smile fell from the governor’s face. That hadn’t gone like he had visualized it. Interesting, but troubling. What had he done wrong?
“Should’ve offered him the twenty-five year scotch,” Governor Richard’s shrugged. “Man, those old farts are gonna be a pain during the next cabinet meeting,” he sighed.
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“The question is, are you willing to do it?” Colonel Johnson grunted at Remy.
Remy returned the grizzled, old man’s stare. Every time with the dominance games. It was a pain, but it had been going on for so long that he felt like he couldn’t give it up. It was a tradition at this point.
“First, why is it just us three,” Remy nodded at Officer Lawrence, who was sitting on the other side of her desk. “Shouldn’t the council be a part of this discussion?”
Officer Lawrence exchanged a glance with the colonel.
“What’re you looking at me for. You’re calling the shots. I’m just an old man with occasionally useful advice.”
“It would be… unproductive… to have the city council be a part of this.” Officer Lawrence caught the look in Remy’s face. “Understand that we are doing this according to all the rules the council has voted on. The watch has authority over military matters, which this certainly falls under.”
Remy knew that. He had forced himself to read everything that came out of the council just to make sure they didn’t try to sneak anything through that would’ve put him under their thumb, at least on paper. It was another matter entirely if anyone thought writing something down on paper was enough to force him to follow orders.
“Okay, technically true, but it doesn’t leave me feeling good about it,” Remy said.
“Agreed,” Officer Lawrence said.
“But necessary,” Colonel Johnson said.
“You haven’t been to a meeting in a while, but the council has been surprisingly split on the issue of our situation with the fishmen and the Bay Area.”
Colonel Johnson snorted. “Call it what it is. It’s a damned War. World turns to magic bullshit and some things stay the same. Suppose it should give me comfort that there are still things that I understand.”
From the tone of the old man’s voice, Remy figured that the colonel’s words were the opposite of what he truly felt. He was forced to reconsider how he viewed the colonel.
“Some on the council are considering suing for peace,” Officer Lawrence said.
“You don’t make peace with the aggressor,” Colonel Johnson said. “That’s called surrender.”
Remy frowned. That was disturbing. “They can’t be serious? How do they even think we can pull that off?”
“Concessions,” Officer Lawrence said.
Remy narrowed his eyes. “If they think I’m giving myself up… let alone my daughters—”
“Relax, nothing of the sort is on the table,” Officer Lawrence said.
“Appeasement.” Colonel Johnson looked like he had sucked down on a lemon. “They’d let the damned cult in and give the fishmen free access to all the waterways.”
“Outside of your efforts… nice job with your daughters by the way… took out an entire raiding band,” Officer Lawrence said.
“Thanks, just about thirty fishmen,” Remy said.
“Point is, outside of you and your kids, we’re losing too many engagements,” Officer Lawrence said. “If you or Chen aren’t involved we end up with our asses kicked.”
“Nothing changes. Young soldiers are the ones out there laying their lives on the line, while the politicians back home safe are more worried about how the numbers look for their re-election,” Colonel Johnson snapped.
“Look, we didn’t have a lot of people in the watch in the first place. We’re down close to fifty percent. We’re on zero ammunition. Del Campo is working his ass off, but he can only make so much ammo per day. We’re using it up faster than he can make it.”
Remy wasn’t aware of this troubling news. “I thought there were a couple of others that also got the Gunsmith Class?”
“They got a level or two in addition to their primary class, which means they can’t make nearly as much as Del Campo. They can re-load a handful of rounds a day at best.”
Officer Lawrence looked haggard. Her eyes had dark bags and there was a slight slump to her shoulders. Remy had never seen her like this before. Even during the early days filled with the desperate fight against gremlin alphas from the high school spawn point.
“So, you think this is a good idea?” Remy frowned.
“No, but we can’t last much longer at this rate. Troops from across the river will be a huge help,” Officer Lawrence said.
“I thought we all shared the same concerns about my presence in the Bay Area,” Remy said. “They want me there, which means they must have something planned.”
“Probably,” Colonel Johnson said. “But I’m thinking that you fly high above and bomb them like a B-52. I’m thinking they’ll have a hard time touching you.”
“What do you think?” Remy turned to Officer Lawrence.
“We’ve been on the back foot this whole time. You don’t win fights that way. We need to change things. Taking the fight to them will force them to consider their own defense. Plus, it’ll give us intelligence on what’s going on over there. We’ve got nothing right now and again, you can’t win fights blind.”
Colonel Johnson nodded approvingly.
“This doesn’t happen without your say so, as much as it pains me to say it,” Officer Lawrence said.
Remy took that in. “I know. I need to think about this.”
“Don’t take too long,” Colonel Johnson said.
Remy left it at that. His mind was in turmoil as he walked back to his home. First thing he needed to do was to talk to his wife. Megan wasn’t going to be happy.
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Now, Threnosh World
Caretaker stood alone in their command chamber. They reviewed the after action reports of their successful operation while watching surveillance feeds from the still ongoing battle for their most forward fabrication facility.
It was clear to them that the 2nd Legion was going to win. The Threnosh soldiers were sacrificing their lives to make it take as long as possible. All according to Caretaker’s overall plan.
They were conflicted. On the one hand it was progress that Senior Commander Saldin Flats 326 had listened and acquiesced. On the other hand the plan called for normal Threnosh soldiers to die in droves for what amounted to distraction. Such was the Threnosh way. The good of the whole over the individual was unquestioned.
Caretaker had learned differently. They were not entirely satisfied with the successful decapitation strike on the 3rd Legion leadership when they weighed the costs.
Dralig was unconscious. Their power armor had locked up tight and resisted all efforts of the engineers and medicals to get it open up and treat their injuries. At least their vitals were stable.
Kynnro had suffered horrific injuries in the crash that took the pilot’s life. They were lucky that their power armor had kept them alive and that Whoosh had been able to bring them back fast enough to be placed into a medical pod. Paradoxically, the Threnosh’s biological frailty meant that Kynnro would be fit for duty within ten days. An easy to damage body also took less time and resources to repair.
Caretaker considered the next step of their plan. Dralig and Kynnro were crucial losses, but they couldn’t wait for them to be combat ready. They had to strike fast now that they had spurred the cragant army into an all out attack. It was as if the killing of the 3rd Legion commander had been taken as a personal challenge. The 2nd Legion was busy with their assault on the fabrication facility. The remainder of the 3rd Legion had regrouped and were pushing away from their former outpost, deeper into the area of the city that they must’ve thought the Threnosh were hiding.
It appeared to Caretaker as if they were desperately in search of any enemy to vent their rage.
The 1st and 4th had also mobilized the bulk of their forces and were moving away from their own outposts in search of a fight.
The only forces that remained in the cragant’s central base were the army’s overall command staff and their personal guard. Less than a hundred cragants to guard the overall enemy commander and the hierophant.
Caretaker watched it all unfold through the dozens of surveillance drones that covered the entire area. The cragants had no idea that they had utterly lost the information battle.
Caretaker studied the readiness reports on each of their teammates. They wanted to strike now, but that was impossible. They needed rest and repairs. The greatest probability of success meant that the earliest estimate that they would be fit for the operation was in two days. The need for darkness added another seven hours to the wait time.
Caretaker felt a strange weight settle on his shoulders. Which didn’t make sense. There was nothing there. All their power armor’s sensors confirmed that fact when they checked. Yet, they felt their shoulders slump and their back bend.
The rest of the cragant army would need to be occupied for those two days. This meant that the Threnosh soldiers would need to give them a fight. Using drones wasn’t enough. The cragants had displayed a willingness to disengage and fall back when faced with drones as opponents. They needed live Threnosh soldiers in their sights to be drawn into combat.
Caretaker sent a quick message to the senior commander. The plan was a go. They wished that Honor was available to answer a question. The plan was necessary. It was made with the highest probability of success. By all rights, they should’ve been satisfied. Yet, the thought of so much dead Threnosh, even if they were soldiers that Caretaker didn’t know, was troubling. What cost was victory worth? And how did one decide?
Honor was still missing, as were PJ15 and Brightstrike. Salamander’s reports had not been positive in that regard. It had almost been a year. It was one of the reasons that Caretaker was eager to end the conflict over Cold Plains City. They were needed elsewhere.
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Tap. Tap. Tap.
Cal robotically pressed keys on the keyboard. The monotony was broken up by the need to move a sheet of paper from the left side of his desk to the right side.
The pile shrank. The pile grew. Like the ouroboros devouring its tale, there was no true end. Even when the done pile was moved after the end of the day more paper appeared in the to do pile like magic.
Tap tap tap tap.
Cal picked up his pace. It had been hours since he’d sat down in the cheap office chair. He just wanted to get the pile done so he could take a break.
He blinked.
The names and numbers on the page suddenly looked like gibberish. Some didn’t even resemble alphanumeric characters. They looked like symbols and they were wrong. Something about them made Cal’s skin crawl.
He looked at his computer monitor.
It was off.
His shadowy reflection looked back at him. His face was distorted. Cuts and bruises covered him. Some looked fresh, some looked weeks older.
Cal spun around.
He had seen something behind him. Felt hands on his shoulders and the back of his head.
Cal’s heart raced. His breathing came out in ragged gasps. He couldn’t hear anything through the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.
What had he seen?
He thought it was something like a long, almost human-looking face and hands. So many hands, long, distorted fingers.
Cal closed his eyes and tried to will his control back.
When he opened them he was seated in a slightly more comfortable chair behind a nicer desk. He had a dual monitor setup. He didn’t look at the screens. The idea of doing so filled him with dread.
The door to his office swung open after a perfunctory knock.
“Yo, Cruces. You ready?”
Cal blinked. He vaguely recognized the woman. She was about his age.
“Yeah. Just thinking it over.” He had learned to never look like he didn’t know what was going on. Buy time. Let the other person reveal what the topic was. Don’t ask. Never ask. Especially after his promotion to middle management.
Cal blinked. He realized that this was a moment from the past. Four, maybe five years before the spires appeared. Which would put it at close to twelve, thirteen years ago.
So much had changed.
He felt a pang of guilt that the woman’s name didn’t come to him.
“Eh? I wouldn’t worry about it. Just a weekly update on what your team has been up to,” the woman said.
The woman’s tone was light. There was a smile on her face.
But Cal looked at her. Really looked and listened despite the supreme force of will and effort to pierce through the fog that seemed to smother his thoughts.
She was off. There was a piercing quality to her eyes as she bore into Cal’s without blinking.
He felt it striking straight into him.
And her voice?
Now that Cal was paying attention he realized it wasn’t actually coming out of her mouth.
It was coming from all around him.
Cal sprang from his chair and pushed a hand toward his co-worker. Or whatever was actually standing in front of him.
Nothing happened.
Cal’s vision wet black, like a thick blanket fell on him.
He knew nothing else.